Lucky Tonight
by dbspug
Summary: Two villains for a small moment let their saner sides enjoy a moment. Slash.


Characters are © DC and used with out permission. Fan Fiction may be freely distributed but not altered in anyway.

Genre: Batman

Pairing: Dent/Wesker

Warnings: Angst, Slash, Mild Fluff

Lucky Tonight

By Spug

How dark it was that night, yet occasionally, when a cold rustle of air whispered past the curtains, enough moonlight would filter in to make inch thick glass circlets sheen faintly. Certainly not enough light to outline the rest of the man wearing those thick frames to bed and nothing else. Not that illumination was needed; he knew that even with a glaring lamp on, the older, meeker man who'd shared Dent's bed tonight would be wearing the same solemn expressionless face.

"Cold?" The question was gruffed out the good side of his face. Harvey sat up against the bed frame. Long legs pulled into an Indian style. Another gust of wind to chill Gotham's most notorious crime boss; another gust to momentarily witness every disfiguring scar on the left side of his face.

"Shhh." Wesker couldn't be seen putting a free finger to his mouth. " Y-you'll wake him."

By him, Arnold Wesker of course, meant Scarface, the wooden dummy that shared his unique form of Schizophrenia; the Dominate driving force behind some of Gotham's most heinous mafia dealings these days. Not even to bed would the Ventriloquist lay that puppet aside. Presently, the dummy rested face down on Wesker's stomach, and only the occasional creek of wood as he breathed reminded both these troubled men that their secondary personalities still loomed greatly over them.

Dent let out a sigh and his head thunk against his bedpost. "Then I'll whisper." As best as Two-face could whisper. His gnarled lips and clenched teeth pulled into a frozen sneer on one side of his face made almost everything he said a growl. Truly frightening in appearance, but in this skittering darkness, there was only Harvey Dent. Two-face could slumber as Scarface did.

Wesker didn't say anything at first. Harvey had come to understand the other man rarely said anything at all; save for humbly agreeing with everything his Dummy snarled and barked at him. It was good to be patient. An ear listening intensively, just incase the meeker man grew brave enough for a conversation.

Would there be anything worth saying? They'd just shared a chance encounter. Something Harvey lived his life by, a flip of a coin had convinced him that bedding the ventriloquist (despite much disagreement from Scarface) was more fun then shoving the older man to meet his death sixty stories to Gotham's dirty streets below. No scratches on Lady Gotham's beautiful face said 'I could love you, not forever, but for one night'. He could feel the nay side, with its deep etchings, between his scarred up fingers. Like the Wesker's dummy, the coin came to bed with him.

A small mousy sound jarred Dent from his coin fumblings. Turning toward Wesker just in time to see the moon act upon those thick frames again. The Ventriloquist had cleared his throat. Would he talk, or was that hellish dummy about to wake?

"I-I'm not really happy with where I'm going nowadays." Wesker's voice was soft, almost non-audible against the rustle of the curtains.

"Not happy." Harvey gruffed back as quietly as he could. The taller man sighed as he allowed his legs to stretch out and he lowered himself down onto his good side, scooting just a few inches from where the other man laid in his bed. "Who really is in this business? Even if this deal of Scarface's falls through, it's just more money till it runs dry again."

"Then why bother?" One could almost hear the older man's brows flurrying on his forehead. A deeper breath, perhaps maybe because he knew the conversation was benumbed at best. "I-I'd rather have a boat, and go fishing. But Mr. Scarface he.." There was a momentary catch in the older man's whispering voice. "Well you know."

"Because money's important, doesn't matter how long it lasts. We need it." For a moment Two-face scratched at Harvey's mind. The mention of that Dummy made him want to grasp its ugly woodenhead and fling it out the window. If Wesker wanted to be free from Scarface's clutches, he could free him just like that. Only, he knew, it didn't work like that. "I know."

Wesker shifted very slowly, even if it was just turning his head toward Harvey, So very careful not to disturb his slumbering nastier personality. "It's not that important. But I guess Mr. Scarface needs it, or he wants it. I'm sure one day he might grow tired of all this, of Gotham, and we'll go somewhere, retire."

"Retire, eh?" Harvey had to chuckle at that. Wesker was cute in that way. Quiet, subordinate, just hanging onto his other personality just hoping for a moment when they might converge as one and be done with it all. Dent was not so lucky to have his split selves so free of each other they could agree that one day something else would be better then Gotham. No, Harvey relied on Two-faces scarred up coin for all his future plans. "When you do, send me a postcard."

"Of course." It was a barren dream, but at least the older man had one. Dent figured the dummy would probably be the death of the kindly confused Wesker. No ranch, no boat, but probably the bottom of the cold waters of the Gotham River. He might even have to send the man and his horrid puppet there himself. Well, Two-face might.

Tonight they'd been lovers, tomorrow; Harvey could be Wesker's murderer.

The coin was grasped tightly in his scarred hand; the other was slid across the cool sheets to find the older man's face in the darkness. "Good. If all goes well, you'll afford a lot of postcards." Fingers closed gently around Wesker's chin and Dent dragged his own face down till their breaths met.

"You could warrant a whole letter." Dent could feel the soft pull of a smile under his fingers. Not an embarrassed sheepish pull of lips that the older man did when being belittled by his dummy, but an actual smile. Extra rare.

"You're sweet. I'm glad you got lucky." As close to friendship as two-face could come anymore. A small groan and he pressed a chastely kiss to the other man's lips. Wesker stiffened with another small mousy sound in the back of his throat, but only for a moment, then the older man relaxed and squeaked happily. A small hiss escaped from Dent's gnarled personality, either in disapproval or warring for more then just a goodnight kiss.

Neither of which would come, interrupted by the Dummy who clanked suddenly against Wesker's stomach. " Mrgh, Gummy, shut the fuck up ang go gack to sleep." A brief breeze lit up the scene, the ending kiss, Wesker's glasses, the tip of Lady Gotham sticking out from between Harvey's knuckles and of course, the glass eyes of the dummy.

Scarface shifted his brows and growled loudly at two-face. " Gack the fuck off, lover goy. Once is fuckin' enough, I gon't ever wanna witness that again." A wooden hand slapped up between the two men, an attempt to shoe Harvey back to his own side of the bed.

"S-sorry Mr. Scarface, Sir." Wesker sighed apologetically. "We were just talking. I'm going to sleep now. G'night Mr. Scarface, G'night Mr. Dent."

Harvey growled himself. That fucking puppet. It needed to go out the window. Lady Gotham took a spin into the air. His skill hand catching her, and then rubbing over the face that had landed right side up in his palm. No scratches.

"Goodnight Wesker." He certainly was a very lucky man tonight. Part of Harvey hoped his luck would last as he rolled over, ignoring the clanking of the Dummy, and the idle whispers between the two separate personalities. Both of his own finding sleep.


End file.
